Dead of Winter

Chapter 47

Ebony got into the detective’s car next to Carter just as his phone rang.

‘Yes, Robbo?’ Carter answered.

‘Your visit to the de Langes’ will have to wait. We have a match for the Arsenal shirt. Alex Tapp, a fourteen year old, went missing four weeks ago, early November, at an Arsenal match.’

‘Text me the address, Robbo; we’ll go straight there.’

Carter knocked on the door. Ebony looked up the quiet street; across the road a curtain twitched. It was a long street of semi-detached houses one side, terraced the other.

A woman answered the door. She was in her mid-forties, wearing a long skirt and baggy jumper.

‘Mrs Tapp? Helen?’ Carter showed his warrant card.

‘Have you found him?’ Her eyes glued to Carter’s face. She didn’t look at his badge.

‘Not yet. . but can we come in please? My name is Detective Sergeant Dan Carter and this is Detective Constable Ebony Willis. Please call us Dan and Ebony. Is it all right if we call you Helen?’

She nodded as she looked hard at them for a few seconds, trying to read their expressions. A small child came to stare up at Carter and hold onto his mother’s leg.

Ebony smiled at the child. He smiled back.

‘Of course, sorry. . out the way, Alfie. .’ She picked up the child and put him on her hip then stood back to allow them to pass.

‘We won’t keep you long; we just need to ask you some more questions and we need to get some DNA swabs from you and your husband if you don’t mind.’

‘I’m sorry my husband isn’t here.’

They followed her into the kitchen. She put Alfie down and sat at the table. She looked exhausted. She rubbed her face with her hands. Her fingers tugged at her face, pulled down her baggy lower eyelids and revealed crimson rims. Alfie was clingy as he pulled at her skirt and tried to climb onto her lap. She picked him up and sat him facing the table. He was desperate to play. His fat dimpled hands grabbed at anything his mother didn’t move away fast enough. ‘DNA?’ She was thinking over what it could mean.

Ebony took a test out of her bag. She cleaned her hands with an antibacterial wipe and put a pair of gloves on then opened the envelope marked ‘Helen Tapp’ and took out the swab. She peeled it back from the stick end.

‘I just need to wipe the cotton bud end of the stick around the inside of your cheek if that’s okay, Helen?’ She nodded and opened her mouth ready. Alfie stared up at her. Ebony rubbed the inside of Helen Tapp’s cheek for a minute.

‘We found a piece of his Arsenal shirt, Helen.’

Helen Tapp fought back the tears as she shook her head, relieved.

‘You haven’t found his body?’

Ebony shook her head. ‘No. We have not. It’s a possibility that he’s being held against his will. There’s still hope, Helen.’

‘Where did you find the shirt?’

Ebony looked at Carter for reassurance. He nodded.

‘We found it at a house in Totteridge.’

‘The one on the news? Where people had been murdered?’

Ebony nodded.

‘Oh God. How did he end up there? Why him?’

Carter answered: ‘We are working on several theories and new leads at the moment, Helen.’

‘Can we please go through the details with you? I appreciate that you’ve talked to officers before but not to us.’

She nodded and blew her nose. Alfie had turned right round and was watching his mum anxiously. He had picked up the signs, knew the quivers in her voice, the descent into tears, knew they meant a cuddle was needed. He snuggled into her and she wrapped her arms around him.

‘Alex went to see Arsenal play.’

‘Does he do that often?’

She shook her head. ‘No. It was his birthday. He wanted to take his friend Aaron. My husband went with them on the Underground and then he had arranged to meet them after the game and bring them home. When he got to the Tube station to wait for the boys, only Aaron showed up. He said Alex went to the toilet at half time and didn’t come back to see the second half. Aaron had phoned his mobile but it was dead.’

‘Had he ever gone off before?’

‘No. . never. Why would he do that? It was his birthday treat. He’d been looking forward to it for so long. My husband, Michael, went back up to the stadium with Aaron, they talked to the officials. No one had seen anything. Michael phoned the police from there.’ She swallowed hard and shook her head. ‘Nothing. . it’s like he’s just gone. .’ Her eyes searched Carter’s face for some grain of hope.

‘Any problems at school, that kind of thing?’

She shook her head, weary with the same questions but trying hard to grasp at any memory that might add up to an answer for his disappearance.

‘Does Alex have access to the internet?’

‘Of course. . every kid his age does.’ Helen sounded defensive. ‘He couldn’t do his homework without it.’

‘Please.’ Carter kept his voice soft. ‘It’s not a criticism. You’re right, every kid does. Just need to know if you were worried about any unusual amount of activity on it? Did you monitor it? Was he looking at it in here?’

‘In here and in his room.’ She thought for a moment, her eyes drifted. She smiled weakly at Alfie as he stared up at her face and grinned. ‘Alex was reaching that age when he had secrets: girls, I suppose, I don’t know. He’s such a wonderful, caring, thoughtful lad; we’ve never had any trouble with him.’ Helen’s expression was open-ended. She looked like she wanted to say ‘until’. .

‘Did he seem to be a little distant recently?’ Ebony asked as she wiggled a spotty dog toy at Alfie and made him laugh.

Helen sighed. ‘Yes, a little. He spent a lot of time in his room; he was a little snappy with me. I didn’t think about it at the time. . but now I think. . yes, maybe a little changed. He was tired, irritable. He’d had his tonsils out a few months ago. He didn’t seem quite himself after that. I put it down to him recovering, I suppose.’

‘Can I have the address of the boy he was with please?’ asked Carter

‘Aaron? Yes of course.’

After they’d gone Helen Tapp counted the chimes as she pulled the cork from the wine: one, two, three, four, five chimes from the antique French clock in the hallway that she was beginning to wish they’d never had restored. It got on her nerves. It marked the passing of time in a way that she couldn’t ignore.

She poured herself a large glass of red wine and gulped half of it down. Red in winter, white in summer, vodka when she didn’t care what season it was and she didn’t want people to see what she was drinking. Housewives all over the land did the same as her, that was a fact, she told herself.

Alfie was getting fractious. He was just beginning to do without his afternoon nap and it was now the tricky time of day, keeping him awake long enough to get past tea, bath, story and then bed. Tonight she would limit herself to one glass before he went to sleep. It didn’t help her cope with him. It made it a chore. Made her snappy, made her face rubbery and ugly. Made her want to scream at the injustice she felt inside and made her miss Alex more than she could bear. She looked at her reflection in the kitchen window. Outside was darkness. All she could see was blackness and the reflection of her face, her hands holding a glass. She had never felt so lonely.

The phone rang and she slammed her glass on the table, chipping its base as she rushed to answer it. She picked it up and listened, there was the pause that meant it was a salesperson or a recorded message asking her if she’d been ripped off by the banks. Who hadn’t?

‘Mrs Tapp? Can we use your house as a show-home for our double glazing?’

She put the phone down and looked down the hall at Alfie, who had fallen asleep sitting up, propped against a bean bag where she’d left him playing with the Duplo. Bugger. . he’d take ages to get to sleep that evening now. She walked over and picked him up — he was flush-faced and heavy in her arms, completely asleep. She carried him upstairs and ran a bath as she sat on the edge and swished her hand in the water. She held onto him and started to cry; noisy agonizing wrenches that came from her core and hung harsh and jagged in the air. .

‘I’ll take him.’ Her husband stood in the doorway looking at her with disgust and contempt on his face. . ‘Give him to me.’ She didn’t seem to hear him. ‘Give. . him. . to. . me.’ He hated her when she was drunk like this. Fucking drunk at five o’clock. . her mouth was red-stained from it, her eyes swollen, her face blotchy, ugly, drunk. . Christ, she looked a mess.

‘You’re home early. .’ She heard the words join up and flinched. She tried a smile but then she turned her face from him as he took Alfie from her arms. She stared into the bath, swishing her hand until the water got scalding hot and she withdrew it fast.

‘What the fuck are you trying to do, scald him to death? Fuck, Helen. . you need to get a grip. Anyone could knock on the door. What if the police come back and want to talk to you? What are you going to say? I was celebrating? I felt like getting drunk? They’re going to think not only has she lost one son, she looks like she doesn’t know how to care for the other.’

She stood and confronted him, her eyes burning, her body trembling.

‘Don’t ever talk to me like that. It wasn’t my fault.’

He shook his head, his eyes despising, his voice sarcastic. ‘Well it sure as hell wasn’t mine. And you have no idea about his life because you’re always pissed by six o’clock. While I’m out working to keep this family afloat. You didn’t know what he was doing on that PC; you didn’t care, as long as you had enough booze to keep you going. Well I’m stopping it now. The gravy train stops here. You’re nothing but a fucking housewife and no fucking good at that. This house is a mess, Alfie is asleep at five o’ fucking clock and you’re pissed.’

She stood and followed him out of the bathroom and down the stairs. ‘Please. . please. . don’t do this to me. . to us. . don’t shut me out like this. We need each other now. I’ve only had one glass, I promise. Alfie fell asleep. You know he does it sometimes. I took my eye off him for a few minutes and he fell asleep while he was playing with his toys. Please. . I’m doing my best. No more drink for me tonight. I’ll cut right down. It’s just that I’m so lonely, just me and Alfie here all day, and I miss Alex so much. I miss making dinner for him. I miss hearing him talk about his day, getting his kit ready for sports, hearing him switch the telly on in the other room and. . I miss him so badly.’

Alfie was waking up, wiping his snotty nose in Michael’s suit jacket.

‘Here. .’ He gave him to her. . ‘I have to go out. I’ll be working late. Someone has to keep food on the table, wine in the fucking fridge. Try not to get too pissed. Don’t wait up.’

‘Mike?’ She called after him. ‘They need you to do a DNA test. They found a bit of Alex’s Arsenal shirt. Mike?’

The front door slammed shut.